


The Forget-Me-Not of Angels

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Boys Kissing, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), The Garden of Eden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 03:15:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20324173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: 4004BC. Garden of Eden. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.That’s it. That’s the story.





	The Forget-Me-Not of Angels

**Author's Note:**

> So it’s the big day. Yay, surgery. That being said, I have no trepidation about it, and I’m really looking forward to not being in pain anymore.

It was an angel’s smile that drew the Serpent of Eden in closer. It caught his attention like nothing else here in the Garden had before. It was the very personification of joy. 

Angels were made to love, to love God, but that didn’t mean that they had to act happy about it. The angel known as Aziraphale was different though. His smile was as different as his joy was. Of all things, the angel was grinning up at the trees, delighting at how the wind moved through the leaves, making it rain down petals down upon him. 

None of the other angels had done this. Yes, they had looked upon God’s newest creation, and felt wonder and awe, but none of them had reveled in it, had bothered to really admire it. None of the others saw the beauty of it, or took any form of joy from it. They didn’t experience the Earth for what it was. 

And then to Crawley’s utter amazement, the demon watched as Aziraphale began to dance. It wasn’t much of a dance. Dancing had just been invented, but it was a dance of sorts, a happy little shuffle with a bit of a sway thrown into the mix. 

Angels didn’t dance, the lack thereof being a defining quality of an angel, and yet, this one did. This happy little angel was dancing with the wind, and twirling around with the birds and butterflies. Aziraphale who laughed at the breezes that tugged at his robe, and grinned at all the colorful insects that were his dancing partners. 

A feeling Crawley never expected to find again within himself bloomed in his heart. It was what made him follow the angel as Aziraphale explored the Garden. 

It was all over for Crawley, who would not leave the angel’s side now for anything, when Aziraphale discovered water, and the sublime thing that was swimming. The angel started by dipping a toe into the shallows, cooing down at tiny fish who came up to nibble on his feet. It must have felt nice because Aziraphale’s next move was to bodily throw himself into the water, making Crawley startle at the suddenness of it all. 

The angel stayed under for a bit before bobbing out of the water, laughing as he merrily splashed about, alarming the swans. He wore a lily pad on his head, the frog residing upon it taking everything in stride. Crawley could only stare as Aziraphale brought his wings out, playing in the pond with the newly made turtles, frogs, and ducks with such innocent abandon as the angel  
kept bobbing below to visit with the fish. It nagged at Crawley how badly he wanted to join in. 

When the angel tired of that, Aziraphale found a patch of soft, sun warmed grass so that he could lay in it among fields of flowers to dry out. Curling up on a nearby rock, Crawley watched as the angel reached out to touch all the petals around him, marveling aloud at their colors and shapes. Most memorable though was Aziraphale singing in Enochian to the bees who paused upon him to drink the water off his skin, hair, and feathers. 

Apparently, singing to bees paid off because the angel was up suddenly with intent, following the bees back to their hive. Reaching in gently, Aziraphale pulled out what looked like to be part of the hive itself, expect the piece dripped with a golden liquid. 

Crawley watched in anticipation as Aziraphale tentatively licked at the golden liquid. The angel’s response was intensely immediate, Aziraphale committing to finishing the honeycomb in record time, going back for more. Rapture was the closest word Crawley could put to the angel’s entire being, Aziraphale tripping off with a large chunk of honeycomb in hand as he sought out more things to try.

Trailing behind the angel, Crawley witnessed Aziraphale revel in anything edible as the angel worked his way through what would be known later on as grapes, peaches, strawberries, and finally, pears. Fingers still sticky with stolen honey, Aziraphale feasted, the appreciative noises he was making practically obscene. 

Crawley drew as close as he dared as he watched the angel appreciate the Garden’s offerings. He consumed the view of the angel licking his fingers clean, lingering over the fruit juices that spilled out of Aziraphale’s mouth as he bit into ripe fruit to have it run down his chin. A kiss from the angel would be sweet to the taste, the demon staring at Aziraphale’s lips, glossy with nectar. 

It was almost cleansing in way that Crawley couldn’t explain. That feeling that had budded before was blossoming into something deep and powerful. There was another being existed that didn’t quite fit their mould, who didn’t quite do what they were supposed to be. 

The Angel of the Western Gate was at its post, spine rigid straight and battle ready. Crawley knew this because he had initially tried to sneak in past there. That angel was certainly not wandering about, sampling the riches of the Garden. It was the absentee guard of the Eastern Gate who had let the Serpent slip in unnoticed. 

Crawley never wanted it to end, but eventually, even the angel went back to his post, his belly full and his flaming sword dangling in sticky, fruit stained hand. So Aziraphale did what he was tasked to do, and Crawley did what he was ordered to do, the demon stirring up a whole heap of trouble. 

When it was all said and done, the world began to open up, and Crawley realized that he didn’t want to return to Hell, as in ever. He wanted to explore all of this brave new world with its limitless possibilities. 

Against his better judgement, Crawley returned to the Garden one last time to bid it a farewell of sorts. He found it to be already changing. Decay and death were things now, the blossoms on the trees not falling from just the push of the wind anymore. He discovered the angel there again like before, but there was no dancing or happy wiggles anymore. With something akin to horror, Crawley watched as Aziraphale stared up at the trees, and openly wept.

“Damn it.” Crawley whispered to himself. This was his doing in a roundabout way. He felt...bad, which he shouldn’t. He was a demon after all, and should be taking some sort of pride in making an adversary cry, inadvertently or not. 

But he didn’t. All Crawley felt was terrible.

“Why are you crying, angel?” Crawley asked, changing along the way so that he could sit down next to the angel. 

“It’s all going to become different from now on. First Heaven, and now this place. It was all so lovely, but now it will all be gone.” Aziraphale said, not bothering to wipe away his sorrow. 

Unchecked crystalline tears dropped off of his face, into the grass at their feet. The angel looked so terribly lost that it tore at the demon. Aziraphale probably could have been happy guarding the Eastern Wall of Eden until the end of time if it had been allowed. Happy to dance with the wind, and trade honeycomb with bees for songs. 

Once upon a time, Crawley had created stars. He still had the power of creation within him. It took nothing to turn those tears mixed with a little dirt into something new. 

“Change isn’t always a bad thing, angel. You can still stay here on Earth.” Crawley invited as he left  
out the ‘with me’, giving the angel a spray of tiny blue flowers. “It just might surprise you.”

They were vaguely star shaped with five blue petals, the color of the angel’s eyes, around a yellow center like a halo. The angel stared at them for a moment before accepting them, sadness beginning to leave his being. It was like watching dawn break across Aziraphale’s face, his inner light chasing away the shadows of his sadness. 

“Oh my! They’re lovely!” Aziraphale delighted, smiling sweetly at the gift. “What are they called?”

“Dunno. Flowers.” Crawley said with a shrug, somehow managing out the words before looking away. He was blushing too hard to keep up eye contact. A light touch to his cheek made the demon quip his head around to stare into beautiful blue eyes full of love and wonder. 

“Thank you.” Aziraphale said quietly, leaning in to place a soft kiss to Crawley’s lips. The angel smelled of nectar, leaving behind a lingering taste just as sweet, honey and pears mixed with the divine. 

Two things happened at once. The world broadened out, and narrowed in all at once. 

The outcome of those two very adverse movements of mind was that Crawley suddenly knew some very real things. That he could still be brought to love. That love could still remain in him, and lastly, that he was mostly definitely in love with Aziraphale, Principality of the Eastern Gate, and that he’d also do anything to see that smile time and time again. 

It would be much, much later when those flowers were named by humans. When Aziraphale learned about it, he was delighted all over again like it were the first time. He told Crowley immediately about it by sending him a bouquet with a poem attached to it. The demon blushed anew over it, all the while placing his own demonic miracle upon the flowers to keep them freshly alive. 

“Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of Heaven, Blossom the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.” Evangeline by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Your comments sample all the fruit of the Garden. Your kudos makes plots with 🐝 bees 🐝.


End file.
